


a ghost that the others can't see

by LtTanyaBoone



Series: a walk to the summit at night [1]
Category: Cardinal (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 14:06:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17551103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: "“I won’t be long,” she added, suddenly wanting to reassure the other woman. Dyson seemed, tired. Tired, and worried. Delorme was pretty sure the latter had very little to do with her, but if she could do anything to help ease the older woman’s mind, well, it didn’t cost her anything."(S03E01 spoilers)





	a ghost that the others can't see

**Author's Note:**

> my reaction to Dyson talking to Delorme about her sister was literally shrieking into my pillow when it happened.
> 
> this begins at some unspecified point in the past, during s2, and ends somewhere during the first ep of the new season, so be aware of spoilers
> 
> the title is from [agnes obel's "familiar"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32kYH6XZrIo), which is the song that the cardinal theme is based on

St. Vincent’s was usually empty at this hour.

Delorme started at the sight of someone sitting in the second row, head tilted back to stare at the stained glass window depicting the crucifixion of Christ.

She hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. She’d come here after a particularly rough day, needing some solace, some comfort. Some silence, to shut up the raging storm inside her own head. But she didn’t want to interrupt someone else’s prayers, their own attempt at finding peace.

Slowly, she allowed the big oak doors to close behind her. Went over to the bénetier, dipping her fingers into the water before she crossed herself. Some of the tension eased off her shoulders at the familiar ritual and the police detective drew a deep breath, eyes closing as she inhaled through her nose, the familiar scent of incense and old wood easing her nerves further.

Delorme opened her brown eyes again and went down the aisle, kneeling next to the third row of pews. Crossed herself again before standing and slipping into the pew, sitting down. She pressed her back against the wooden bench, her chest rising as she inhaled and held her breath for a moment, before letting it out slowly.

Her eyes rose to the stained glass window, the scene one she had looked up to many a time before. She’d grown up in town, St. Vincent’s had been the church her parents were married at, where Delorme had been baptized. She’d spent the services of her youth here, had received the Sacraments right here, as well.

It was strange. There had been periods in her life when she’d strayed from the Church and its teachings, but she always came back, ever the repenting sinner. Or at least as close to it as she would allow herself to get. These days, most of her absences from service were due to her work hours and cases piling up. You couldn’t very much ask for time off to go to church when a serial killer was roving through town. Dyson wouldn’t appreciate any such requests.

Lise closed her eyes, searching within herself. Restlessness had steered her hand earlier, had made her take a right on Main, instead of left, towards home. Had directed her here, instead of to her place and bed. Not that she would have been able to find much sleep, with the state her head had been in when she’d left the precinct.

She felt calmer now, though. Just being here helped calm her nerves, soothe the raging storm inside her. Calmed it enough that she could allow herself to focus on specific thoughts. Could go over the details of the case again in her head, looking for anything that stuck out, anything her mind kept coming back to, zooming in on even though it was not yet sure what it was looking for.

The soft scraping of feet on the floor made her open her eyes again. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the other worshiper cross herself. Closer, she could tell it was a woman, slightly shorter than herself, she thought. Wearing a dark headband, tucked firmly over her ears. Something about that seemed familiar, but it took her until the woman rose and started to turn before Delorme recognized her DS, her lips moving in a silent curse that immediately made her cringe.

Dyson froze at the sight of her, dark eyes widening in surprise. Delorme tilted her head, forcing a fake smile to her lips.

“Evening, DS,” she greeted her, surprised by the amused lilt to her voice.

“I didn’t know you came here,” Dyson said, her face carefully blank. Delorme drew a breath, allowing her shoulders to move in a shrug.

“It’s quiet. Helps me think,” she offered and watched as the older woman nodded. She stepped from the pews, taking a few careful steps. Paused next to Delorme, seeming strangely small, outside the office.

“Don’t stay out to late,” she said, surprising Delorme with the softness of her voice. “There is a killer out there, after all.”

“One I do plan on catching,” Delorme quipped, before sobering. “I won’t be long,” she added, suddenly wanting to reassure the other woman. Dyson seemed, tired. Tired, and worried. Delorme was pretty sure the latter had very little to do with her, but if she could do anything to help ease the older woman’s mind, well, it didn’t cost her anything.

Dyson gave a curt nod and started walking again. She found it hard, to remain sitting with her eyes facing forward, but Delorme managed to do so, waiting until she heard the doors open and fall shut behind the Detective Sergeant, the heavy sound echoing in the emptiness of the Church.

* * *

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

To her credit, Delorme didn’t jump. She’d heard the door open and cast a quick glance back to see who had entered the church so late. Had been not all that much surprised to find Dyson at the bénetier, lips moving soundlessly as she crossed herself.

She wanted to crack a joke. Something about Dyson having been too busy all day to see her otherwise, but it felt wrong, somehow. Felt like it was too close to crossing a line, too personal. So instead, Lise scooted to the side, making room for the other woman in the pew.

She hadn’t told her, but last time, Dyson had been sitting in Delorme’s favorite spot, and when she’d found it empty earlier, she’d seized upon the chance of taking up the seat again. It was where she’d used to sit, during Mass. Well, not exactly at the edge of the pew, more towards the middle, but still, the row was the same, and it held a special place in Delorme’s heart. Sentimentality and all that.

Dyson sat down heavily, a deep sigh escaping her. Not for the first time today, Delorme noted how tired the woman looked. She used to think of Dyson damn near supernatural, in her ability to run on very little sleep and still maintain good leadership. These days, however, it seemed like her grasp was starting to slip, the reigns starting to slide through her hands, and it unnerved Delorme. She wanted to reach out and offer help, but didn’t know how to do so, never mind how it might be received. Dyson probably wouldn’t appreciate her insinuating that she needed help with her duties.

“Where are you, with the case?” she asked, and Lise gave a vague wobble of her head before berating herself. Too much time spent with the guys from Ident. Collingwood had a similar tick, Delorme must’ve snagged it up from him.

“It’s slow going,” she allowed, her brows dipping briefly, before her lips tugged into a smile. “I had a run in with the new woman in Ident. Harris?”

Dyson let out a low hum in response.

“She’s good,” Delorme continued, her voice low. It still carried in the big, empty building, causing a disorienting sensation of whispers coming from all sides. It was a peculiarity of St. Vincent’s that always took her a little, to get used to.

“It was a lot easier, going over evidence with her. She doesn’t talk to me like I’m fresh from Aylmer and this is my first case,” she remarked with a soft shake of her head. One of these days, she would kick Arsenault where it hurt if he explained dusting for prints to her again. She knew the difference in full prints and partials and smudges, she did not need a refresher every single time she went down to Ident, thank you very much. Actually, she was pretty sure that Cardinal didn’t get a refresher every time he talked to them, which would explain why it took her so much longer to grab her analysis reports than he took.

“Let’s hope she decides to stay,” Dyson nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. Delorme watched her out of the corner of her eyes, shifting uncomfortably.

“Do you-” she started, before cutting herself off. It was, stupid. Dyson was a grown woman. She was her Detective Sergeant, her boss. Offering her help, it was a ridiculous idea. There wasn’t anything Lise could do for her. Not really.

“Do I, what?” the dark-haired woman frowned, turning to look at her. Delorme felt herself flush, hoping that the low light would hide the worst of it.

“If there’s anything you need…” she said, shrugging sheepishly. To her surprise, Dyson didn’t scold her. Instead, she let out a ragged breath and Delorme’s eyes snapped down to her hand. The one Dyson had just reached out and squeezed briefly, before withdrawing immediately.

“Thank you,” the woman murmured before turning again, eyes looking up at the stained glass mosaic, her attention turning inward.

* * *

It was tempting to just, reach out and slap the damn thing into submission. But that wouldn’t do any good, Delorme knew that much. All it was going to accomplish, was that she’d end up breaking the computer. And then get stuck with the bill to replace it.

She pushed to her feet, sending her chair rolling back with the force and smacking into the one at the desk behind hers. Thankfully, it was unoccupied, the officer using it having already left for the night. Besides the night shift, Delorme was one of the only ones still around. She’d wanted to finish her sups, having caught a second wind shortly before her shift was over, so she’d stayed, but now it was half past eleven and the damn thing wouldn’t let her print or save and she was just about to have an aneurysm.

Cursing under her breath, Delorme stalked to the break room, to grab herself some tea. She was hoping it might help calm her, and even if it did, it certainly removed her from the temptation of taking the computer and throwing it across the room in frustration.

With some surprise, she noted that the light in Dyson’s office was still on as Delorme grabbed a mug and filled it up with hot water before selecting a bag of tea. Moroccan mint. Whatever had happened to plain old peppermint?

She shook her head, plopping the bag into her mug and then using her finger to dip it under the water. It made a fresh curse leave her lips at the stab of pain the action caused. Hot water, bad idea. She shook her head at herself, reaching up to rub a hand over her forehead, before drumming her fingers on the counter.

Following an impulse, Delorme grabbed another mug and fixed another cup of tea, this one a fancy ginger and orange mix. Allowed it to steep for a moment, before she grabbed both mugs and headed for the DS’s office, using her foot to push the door open and her elbow on the door frame to knock.

Dyson was at her desk, head in her hands, her face hidden by her fingers. The sight made Delorme pause, made her think that she should have stayed away. Should have left the other woman alone and not intruded.

Just as she was about to turn around and quietly duck out again, Dyson looked up, surprise registering on her face at the sight of Delorme standing there, one mug in each hand.

“I saw the light on,” she offered, stepping inside and putting the mugs down. Gestured towards them. “Mint, and the other is, ginger something,” she said. “Moroccan mint,” she added with a shrug.

Dyson lowered her hands, sitting up a little.

“Which one is the ginger?” she asked and Delorme handed her the mug, fingers brushing against the other woman’s briefly. It sent a tingle up her arm and down her spine, one that made her brows dip briefly in confusion, before it cleared.

Delorme took the other mug, getting ready to leave, but found herself called back by the sound of the DS’s voice.

“My sister has cancer.”

She nearly lost her grip on her mug. Barely managed to catch it in time before she sunk into the chair in front of Dyson’s desk, completely dumbfounded.

“I am so sorry,” she offered weakly. It wasn’t enough. Felt almost like she was, mocking her. She wanted to say something more, something meaningful, but no words would come. She couldn’t think of any that would make this easier, that might ease the pain of such a diagnosis.

“We were doing radiation. Then chemo, and now it’s, radiation and chemo combined,” the older woman went on, staring into her mug of tea.

Delorme opened her mouth again, to repeat her previous statement, before she caught herself. Closed it and took a deep breath. She’d noticed the pronoun. The ‘we’ Dyson had used. Instead of simply speaking of her sister, of someone else, receiving treatment for the cancer, she’d included herself in the statement, as well. Delorme was pretty sure it was an accidental slip, a subconscious admission of the toll her sister’s diagnosis was taking on the DS.

“I’m sorry,” she heard Dyson say and watched her shake her head quickly. “You have your own things to worry about, I shouldn’t-”

“No,” she quickly shook her head, interrupting Noelle. “No, it’s fine,” she continued. “I just… I didn’t know what to say,” Delorme admitted. “I had no idea… It must be hard, to see someone you care for like that.”

Dyson looked away at her computer screen, though her gaze was distant, fixed on the middle distance.

“It is,” she admitted, her voice low and barely audible. “I go to her after work. Just to visit and chat and, be with her…”

Delorme inclined her head, carefully lifting the mug to her lips and taking a tentative sip. She let out a hiss as the hot liquid burned her tongue and the roof of her mouth, causing her to grimace. When she looked up again, she saw Dyson’s lips curving upwards slightly, the woman trying to fight down a smile. It made her roll her eyes.

“Go ahead, laugh,” she grumbled, cradling the mug and blowing on the hot liquid.

“Thank you,” the woman suddenly said, surprising Delorme. “For the tea,” she added with a nod towards her mug.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, pausing. Then decided to push ahead. “If you ever need anything… someone to talk to, someone to rant at…”

She watched as Dyson swallowed thickly, before inclining her head.

“Thank you, Delorme.”

“You’re welcome, chief,” she nodded before standing and taking her mug back to her desk. Her computer had spat out fifteen error messages in the meantime, and she slowly clicked through them, before deciding to give it one final try before she would pack up for the night.

At the sound of the printer whirring to life at almost midnight, Detective Lise Delorme let out an excited cheer, blushing deeply when she saw Dyson stick her head out of her office at the sudden noise.

* * *

The call had come at ten to two in the morning. At first she’d thought it was a case. It took her a while, to wake up enough and realize that it wasn’t a work call. Dyson had just dialed her number. Probably selected the most recent in her list of contacts. It could just as well have been Cardinal, or McLeod.

Well, okay, maybe not McLeod.

Delorme approached the nurse’s station, resting her hands on the counter.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, keeping her voice low, accounting for the fact that it was well after normal visitation hours. “I was just wondering, is there a place somewhere where we could, get a cup of coffee? Or tea? Or anything, really,” she added at the look of the younger woman clad in her uniform.

The brunette let out a soft sigh and put her pen down, pushing her chair back.

“This is an exception,” she declared. “Don’t tell the others, or they will all come running,” she added, motioning for Delorme to follow her. She did, finding herself being led to the break room, where the nurse handed her two cups and filled them with black coffee.

“Sugar, cream?” she asked, making Delorme frown at the black liquid as she tried to remember how Dyson took her coffee.

“Uh, two sugar, no cream,” she said, holding the left one out. “And just cream for the other,” she added, watching the woman top up the other cup carefully.

“If you need a refill, there’s a machine on the second floor. It only takes coins, though.”

“Thank you so much,” Delorme nodded, smiling at the other woman in thanks as she ducked from the room and went down the hallway to the family room, where she had left her things. She went and checked her phone before picking up the cups again and making her way down the hall to the cubicle where Dyson’s sister was currently on a gurney, waiting for a bed on the ward. She’d finally fallen asleep a few minutes ago, shortly before Delorme ducked out and went to grab some coffee for Dyson and herself.

The DS was folded into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, holding her sister’s hand as she slept, watching her face intently.

They didn’t look much alike, physically, but there was something about the other woman that reminded Delorme of Dyson. Something in her expression, in the way she held herself, even though she was remarkedly poor. She’d gotten an infection and landed herself in the Emergency Department when Dyson had found her struggling to breathe and called an ambulance. At least she was responding to the antibiotics the doctors had given her. Now all that was left to do, was get her up to a ward, and let her rest and get a course of antibiotics to deal with the infection.

“Thank you,” the DS murmured as Lise held out the cup to her.

“Careful, it’s hot,” she warned her as the other woman cradled the cup in her hands. “And don’t thank me, this might be the worst coffee you ever had,” she added with a slight tilt of her head before taking a sip of her own cup.

Not the worst she ever had, but not the best either. It was tolerable, and that would have to do, for now.

Dyson closed her eyes for a moment, before she opened them again, downing half the cup in one go.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered suddenly as Delorme had sat back down in the other chair. Dyson’s eyes were fixed on her sister’s face again, watching the tiny movements of her muscles in her sleep.

“For what?” Delorme frowned in confusion, before shaking her head. “If this is about calling me, don’t worry,” she told her. “I wasn’t really sleeping, anyway,” she lied, and felt Dyson’s eyes on her. Quickly hid her face behind her cup of coffee, hoping that the other woman wouldn’t catch the lie. She probably did, anyway. She wasn’t their Detective Sergeant for nothing, after all.

Delorme slowly lowered the cup, checking her watch. It was nearly six. She had a fresh change of clothes in the car, but she doubted that Dyson did the same, and even if she did, she’d come here in the ambulance with her sister.

“Would you like me to… I could, grab you a change of clothes, if you wanted,” she offered, nodding towards the t-shirt and faded jeans Dyson was currently wearing. “Just tell me what you’d like and I’ll grab it for you, if you give me your keys. I’ll come back here, you can change and we can go to work, after. Or I can drop you off at home, before I go in,” she added, suddenly thinking that, after last night, Dyson might want to take the day off. Delorme was pretty sure that she hadn’t slept a wink at all.

Dyson drew a slow breath before reaching into her pocket and procuring a set of keys.

“The door sticks sometimes, you have to pull it towards you, turn the key, then lift and push,” she explained. “There should be a suit downstairs, on the couch, still in the bag from the cleaners. Just grab that, it’s a complete set.”

“Okay,” Delorme nodded. “Toothbrush, deodorant, stuff like that?”

“Yes, please,” Dyson muttered, cheeks coloring slightly.

“Alright,” she declared with false cheer. Took the keys and put her cup down on the chair. Walked around the gurney and squeezed Dyson’s shoulder.

“I’ll be back in about half an hour. Call if anything changes,” she told her before stepping away and going to collect her coat from the family room.

* * *

For once, she really, really hoped that Dyson wouldn’t get it into her head to visit the church this evening.

Delorme drew a slow breath, carefully letting it out again.

It had been the other woman that had driven her to seek out the solace of St. Vincent’s tonight. She’d needed space, some quiet, to think, to work through, everything.

It kind of began innocently enough. Bringing her coffee whenever Delorme got herself a refill. Checking in with her a few times throughout the day, just by walking past her office and ducking her head in and giving her a smile before disappearing again. Nothing bad, or really all that inappropriate, really.

Delorme didn’t exactly know when it changed. When it shifted into something else. Into dinner at a Chinese place. Into driving her to the hospital, to visit her sister, and sticking around for the two hours of visitation before then driving Dyson home. Into coming up to the front steps, and then into the house, as well. Into accepting a coffee, a mug of tea. On one occasion, a finger of whiskey.

And then she’d gone and offered Dyson a ride during one of their nightly meetings in St. Vincent’s, and the smaller woman had looked at her with her dark eyes as Delorme walked her to her front porch, and something had just, snapped, and the next thing she knew was that she was stumbling backwards down Dyson’s hallway as the two of them scrambled to get each other out of their clothing.

If she had had the slightest inkling that her careless quip to McLeod might come true, she never would have joked about sleeping with Dyson in the first place. He was just the kind of guy to start looking into a comment like this, and if he found out that it had been the truth, that she’d indeed been banging their Detective Sergeant, Lise could kiss her career goodbye. All her hard work, it would have been for nothing.

That was the issue, wasn’t it? This nagging voice, in the back of her mind, that kept reminding her that this, her chance at NIS training, that it might very well be Noelle telling her things were over and paying for her silence. That the only reason Dyson might recommend her for NIS was in an attempt to keep her quiet about their, indiscretions.

And yes, it had happened more than once. That night, in Dyson’s bedroom, that had only been the beginning. There had been other moments. Heated kisses in the hallways, hands slipping beneath tops, dipping into pants in the copy room. A rug burn on Delorme’s knees, after they’d both lost their battle with control and ducked into the press conference room, of all places. They’d been growing reckless, these past few weeks, and if this was Dyson’s attempt to steer them back to professional boundaries, then Delorme supposed she should perhaps be glad that the older woman had gotten her wits back. Because she certainly hadn’t. She still wanted her, wanted her so badly it nearly hurt. The nights she spent at her own place, in her own bed, without Noelle in her arms, they made her heart ache painfully, and that was just, not good. It was absolutely Not Good.

This wasn’t a relationship. Delorme wasn’t so deluded that she thought it was. It had just been the two of them needing some kind of connection, to another human being. Two women scratching each other’s itches and taking care of their needs. Only…

Only there was something, a certain expression, in Dyson’s dark eyes when she blinked up at her in the morning. When she cradled Lise’s face before pulling her into a heated kiss. Something in the way she held her at night, one arm wrapped around her waist, face turned into Lise’s neck.

They should really stop. Stop seeing each other. It was inappropriate beyond belief, never mind the fact that Dyson had other things to worry about. She had enough on her plate already, without Delorme adding her own crap on top of it all. The cancer treatment for her sister had stopped working, the tumors were no longer shrinking, in one case, they’d actually started growing slowly. She knew Dyson worried, about what it meant, going forward.

Delorme let out a deep sigh and reached up to hide her face in her hands. This was such a convoluted mess. Her best option, right now, was to take the NIS training. To take this olive branch that had been extended to her, pack her bags, make a clean cut, and leave, at least for as long as training took. And when she came back, o go back to how things had been, before she’d grown so close to her DS. Go back to a professional working relationship with Dyson where the two of them kept their distance from each other outside of work.

Yes. Yes, that seemed to be the best idea. No matter how much it might hurt, it was for the best. Was the one thing that might help protect both of them from this becoming even more complicated and potentially more devastating.

Delorme rubbed her hands over her face before lowering them. Looked up at the stained glass window, suddenly feeling like the eyes of Christ, in their anguish, were aimed right at her. Saw right through her.

She shook her head and stood, resisting the urge to snap at Him to quit judging her. She was trying her best already, what else could she do?

She knelt, crossing herself, before turning and leaving the church, allowing the oak door to slam shut behind her.

* * *

Dyson caught her hand, fingers wrapping delicately around her wrist. She looked down, confusion knitting her brows as the smaller woman inclined her head towards the board room, giving a small tug before she let go of her hand.

Delorme watched her walk away briefly, before she started moving, as well. Stepped into the board room and closed the door behind herself, figuring that this wasn’t necessarily something she wanted anyone else to be able to listen in on.

She turned, crossing her arms as she braced herself for a sharp reprimand. She’d told her, to leave Cardinal out of this. To let him deal with the small stuff for now, and given Delorme lead on this major case.

“You wanna tell me, why he was at the crime scene?” Dyson asked, her voice carefully neutral. It made her shift, searching for the right words.

“I asked him to come,” she finally said, after a few moments. Watched the DS incline her head, jaw working. “You gave me lead,” Delorme reminded her. “And I felt that Cardinal’s knowledge was going to be required. Crime scene like that…” she trailed off with a loud exhale.

“I know,” Dyson muttered, waving her off. She shifted, bracing herself against the huge desk. She turned to face the door, her arms crossing over her chest. “But he just lost his wife. He is vulnerable, right now. I do not want him to…” she trailed off, brows creasing.

“I have lead,” Delorme repeated. “And I’ll keep an eye on him. I won’t give him anything he can’t handle. But he needs this. Needs to be working, needs to feel useful. Sticking him with the minor stuff… It wouldn’t help him.”

Dyson let out a soft hum, tilting her head a little.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she remarked, and for some reason, the words hit deep. Left a smarting sting behind, very much like the sensation of getting slapped across the face. It had only been the other day, when Dyson had told her, about her sister only having a few weeks left. When she’d thrown down that jackhammer, at Catherine Cardinal’s funeral.

Delorme bit back a retort. Forced herself to relax a little, pushing the tension from her frame consciously.

“I do,” she said, lips tugging into a soft smile. Almost asked, how her sister was doing, before she caught herself at the last moment. It wasn’t her business, not any more. They hadn’t been, together, since the night Catherine Cardinal committed suicide. She’d been too busy, worrying about John, and trying to get some distance from Noelle, as well, before this whole thing between them had a chance to blow up in their faces. She was trying, trying so hard, to protect all of them, and it was stretching her to the limit. Protect John from the heartache of knowing his wife had died by her own hand, protect Noelle from the consequences of recommending her lover for NIS training over a more seasoned detective. Protect herself from losing her career and her job to the discovery of her having an affair with her superior officer. And somewhere in there, she was also trying to protect her heart from getting broken yet again, but if Delorme was being completely honest, it was already well too late for that.

“Alright,” Dyson nodded, straightening. “Just make sure you have an eye out for yourself, too.”

“I am,” Delorme smiled in amusement.

“I mean it,” the other woman pushed, dark eyes meeting the lighter brown of Delorme’s own. “Right now, you have a partner that shouldn’t be working major scenes because he might not be focusing a hundred percent. I don’t want you to rely on him to have your back when he very well might not be able to even protect himself, never mind you.”

Delorme swallowed thickly at those words. She hadn’t considered that, before. Now she felt utterly idiotic and naive in her desire to help Cardinal.

“Thank you,” she murmured, dropping her arms and reaching out to touch Dyson’s elbow briefly. She held her gaze, for a second, before dropping it and removing her hand. When she left the board room, Dyson didn’t call after her. She simply let her go, let her leave. And Delorme didn’t look back, even though she could feel Dyson’s eyes still resting on her back, watching her leave.

_Fin._


End file.
